


texts from bb

by MsPooslie



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Artist Reader, Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon-Typical Violence, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, Embedded Images, Explicit Language, F/M, Marvel Universe, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Photographer Reader, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Canon, Protective Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sex, Sexy Times, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Texting, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 21:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPooslie/pseuds/MsPooslie
Summary: You are a photojournalist who meets Bucky on accident in Wakanda and hit it off.





	texts from bb

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr  
> fic has embedded images, won't make sense without them, sorry.

You meet Bucky Barnes shortly after T’challa opened the borders of Wakanda. 

The magazine you work for had sent you to do a photo spread on the country and how different it was than what the world thought. You worried that this would be the take EVERYONE had, but you agreed because, hey free trip to Africa! You pack your gear and hit the road, knowing that there had to be a deeper story. And HOLY SHIT did you find one! Everyone knew about the avengers falling out over the Sokovia Accords and Steve Rogers taking up the defense of the who had been accused of blowing up the UN. What they didn’t know is where the hell Cap & Co. disappeared to. Well, YOU FOUND ONE OF THEM.

 

It starts with your Wakandan guide being cagey about the river tribe, he seems to not want you to go down to the water. You, of course thinking the worst, thought this is where their dark secret was kept. Pollution? Child labor? Your mind reels at the possibilities. You snuck down along the bank and HE caught you! You almost shit yourself when you saw him. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the WINTER FUCKING SOLDIER. And he had your arm in the steely grip of his hand. He didn’t even have to ask you a word, you immediately started rambling an explanation.

“I-I’m sorry, I am a photojournalist and they were being all mysterious about this area so I came down here to see what the big secret is and oh my god it’s you! I swear I won’t tell anyone! oh my god James Buchanan fucking Barnes! Please, I know your friend, Steve Rogers–I interviewed him after New York and I am sure that he would not pick the wrong side of a fight, he’s a good man so I am sure you are too, can you please let go of my arm, you are sort of hurting me.”

He watches your face turn from fear to excitement at the site of him, his eyes widening in confusion with every word–you were EXCITED? To meet HIM? The guy Hydra made into a monster? When you told him he hurt you arm, he immediately dropped your arm, like it had burned him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, you just surprised me. Will you be OK?”

You stare into his eyes, the most amazing color blue, like a stormy sea and were dumbstruck to find guilt there. “Hey, it’s OK- it’s fine really, I was trespassing, you don’t have to feel bad, I have had worse, believe me–I once followed the Hell’s Angels around for a month and got into a fight with this biker chick named ‘Artemis’–yeah right–it turns out her real name was Daisy! Haha! but yeah she kicked my ass. We’re pals now, I was in her wedding a few months ago. Sorry, I am babbling, I do that when I am nervous.”

He just stares at you, mouth agape. You were like a ray of sunshine, and possibly the most insane person he had ever met. “Look, you shouldn’t be here, I am a dangerous man, it isn’t safe–that is why they didn’t want people coming down here.” He took your arm–extremely gently this time and lead you away from the water. “Please, just go back to the city, I am sure you will find plenty of stories there, where it is safe.”

 

The next day, your phone lights up with a text from a number you don’t recognize:

You save his number in your phone as JBB, slip your handlers, and head down to the water. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, prepare to be shot!” you say as you wiggle your camera at him,

“First of all, the only people who has ever called me “James” were my parents and then only when I was in trouble.”

“I promise I will be quick Ja–what can I call you if not James?”

“Bucky,” he sighs, eyeing you warily, “Second, I can’t believe you talked me into this. Fuckin’ STEVE”

“No, just talking, so far anyway,” you give him a wink, “though, given the opportunity….” you raise your eyebrows thoughtfully. He just blinks at you several times before turning on his heel and heading back to his hut. “WAIT! Please, the light out here is amazing, I promise you I will be quick.” You drop your gear and get immediately to work, starting with the annoyed look he has on his face when he turns back to you. “Perfect, you keep being you, baby!” this makes him laugh and you swear his smile takes your breath away. Luckily you had your finger on the trigger and instinctually fired several shots while you stood there with your mouth agape.

You spend about an hour with him, following him as he goes about his business and get some amazing shots of him–feeding animals, playing with kids, 3 girls braiding his hair. As he heads back to his hut, you say, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Practically painless!”

You steel your nerve, knowing he will probably say no but you can’t not ask, “can I shoot one more thing? It’s OK if you say no, I know it is a sensitive area and you have earned your peace from me but I have to ask or I will never forgive myself.”

He waits, staring at you, with mild concern. Finally he says, “you haven’t actually said what, yet.”

“Oh, shit! Sorry–nerves!” You swallow hard and take a deep breath, “can I shoot your arm?” His face darkens and he scowls for a moment. “You know what, never mind, it’s fine, I shouldn’t have asked. Thank you so much for your time Mr. Barnes–Bucky!” you grab your gear bag and start to rush off.

“Wait,” he says and you freeze, too scared to turn back. “Not out here, OK? None of the kids have seen it.” He turns and heads to his hut, gesturing for you to follow him.

You step through the door into the relative gloom, thinking that it is surprisingly cool inside. Then you notice, it just looks like a simple hut on the OUTSIDE but inside? It  has all the normal accoutrements of any small studio apartment in New York. You marvel, yet again at this place that has been kept hidden for millennia. He watches you take in his place, as you photograph little vignettes of his life; his baseball cap on the counter, next to a gorgeous handmade bowl; the mix of clothes he has collected since he left Bucharest, equal parts traditional robes of Wakanda and jeans & tees; you could spend another hour, just photographing the fascinating dichotomy that is this man. He eventually clears his throat, “you’re gonna lose the light soon, Dollface”.

You turn to him, suddenly shy. “OK, Can you please take off your scarf and shirt?” he obediently removes the scarf and shirt gingerly lying them on his bed. He turns back to you, but doesn’t meet your eyes. The carnage left behind from the decades of torture and removing and re-attaching new tech is horrifying but you keep your face impassive, and give him instructions on how to stand and where to turn to get the best light. It is oddly intimate, just the two of you, voices raised barely more than a whisper, as you photograph the map of scars that have forever changed this man.

How can anyone think he is the villain? NOBODY would have put themselves through what he has gone through. Not for any cause. You end with him leaning against the doorway, silhouetted against the setting sun, his right arm up, elbow on the door-frame.

As he puts his shirt and scarf back on, you change his contact to BB and tell him you will be in touch.

“Not sure if that is a promise or a threat,” he says, showing you out.

“A little of both,” you say, cheekily, “but seriously, I can not thank you enough for your time, I know I can be annoying–just ask ‘Artemis’–but I promise, as we get to know each other, I really grow on you!”

“Like a fungus,” he says with a laugh, and there is that smile again, radiant as the sun.

You laugh and wave as you walk away, back to the city and then onto home.

The pictures turn out AMAZING. Some of the ones of his scars have the most amazing texture that you actually blow one up as a Black & White abstract that you hang above the tiny couch in your studio apartment.

You send him your favorites and spend the months texting back and forth about movies he should watch, books he’s missed, etc.

Then the spaceship shows up in New York, and you know it’s going to be bad. Tony Stark and some guy named Steven Strange seem to have been taken by them. You just wait , eyes glued to the news, scared for the world and your new friends.

The fight comes back, and hits Wakanda–HARD. A mile-wide swath of the country is basically gone. You know Steve would have been right at the front of the fight and that Bucky would have been drawn into it but they have miraculously survived. The details are a complete mess but you are just so thankful they are still here

 

 

About a month after the fighting has stopped and things have settled back into routine, you get a text from Bucky:

 

Your excitement goes through the roof! Steve agrees that it is a great idea and sets it up. Your editor could kiss you, she is so thrilled you got this scoop.

On the day, you are strangely nervous–not of the job but of seeing Bucky again. You shake it off as you grab your gear bag and set off toward Stark Tower. You show your ID & press pass, and get waved through security, and directed to Elevator B; which takes you directly to the common area floor.

You step out of the elevator and gasp, the view is amazing and the place is gorgeous. Tony Stark is sitting on one of the couches, arguing with…nobody? You hear a female voice with a slight Irish accent but don’t see anyone. “Mr. Stark?” you finally say, and he holds up one finger, indicating for you to wait a moment. Out of the corner of your eye you see movement and turn, a beautiful redheaded woman is standing in the small kitchenette (well, “small”, it’s bigger than your whole place) rolling her eyes.

“Ignore him,” she says, stepping around the counter to greet you, “he’s arguing with F.R.I.D.A.Y about …something, I don’t know I never listen to them two anymore. I’m Pepper,” she holds out a hand which you shake, gratefully.

“Pepper Potts?”

“The same,” she says with a wide grin.

You are slightly starstruck, this woman has been one of the most influential of the last decade, basically running Stark Industries even before Tony became Iron Man. “Wow, it is so nice to meet you!”

“Thank you!” Tony says, approaching you both, sliding one hand around Pepper’s slim waist and holding out the other to you. “Tony Stark, thanks for coming by. You are right, by the way, having a non-family member around will keep us on our best behavior.” He shakes your hand brusquely then gestures at the room, “go ahead and make yourself at home, and remember, my good side is all of them,” he says with a smirk and wink. “Drink?”

As much as you could use one, you decline, needing to be sharp for the upcoming task. You set your gig bag on the ground near the kitchenette and start pulling bodies and lenses from it, setting them on the counter. You just get it set up to your liking, clicking a lens onto your favorite body, as the elevator doors open again, revealing Steve and Bucky. The room immediately fills with tension as you raise you camera to fire off a few shots of both parties.

The sight of Bucky & Steve together is a thing to behold, they are both so gorgeous they could be movie stars all chiseled jawlines, muscles, and beautiful eyes. They both have a look of grim determination as they step out, as if they are here to have one of their perfect teeth pulled, not meet with someone who Steve had been good friends with not a few short years ago. Bucky has a new metal arm, black with gold colored accents, it is a gorgeous piece of machinery that you are sure Shuri made for him.

Steve and Tony approach each other, slightly cautiously. The last time they had seen each other, they had fought nearly to the death. Steve reaches out a hand and Tony reluctantly shakes it. “Capsicle,” he nods acknowledgement at Bucky “Manchurian Candidate.” Bucky narrows his eyes slightly, looking ready to bolt.

Pepper steps up to steve, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek, “ignore him, he just got done bickering with F.R.I.D.A.Y, as per usual. Come, sit, I’ll make you a drink,” She gestures at the living room before turning to Bucky, “you must be James, I heard a lot about you while this guy was looking for you.” She points at Steve over her shoulder with her thumb, reaching her other hand to shake his.

“Call me Bucky, please, Ma’am.”

“Ok, Bucky, What’s your poison?”

She makes a round of drinks while the guys sit on opposite sides of the large coffee table. They size each other up grimly. 

Steve finally breaks the tension, “congratulations on the engagement, you two. It’s about time,” he raises his glass and they nod in thanks, smiling.

They get down to business, hashing out their grievances passionately yet amicably. There’s something about the stopping the end of the universe as we know it that just brings people together. You get some great shots and everyone behaves themselves. No shots fired, no punches thrown. 

Towards the end of the afternoon, Pepper and Tony have a whisper fight in the kitchenette and you hear “shield” and “father” and “friend since they were KIDS” but can’t make out the rest. 

Steve seems to have relaxed, draping one arm across the back of the couch he and Bucky are sitting on. You step over to them, “hey guys, it’s going pretty good, right?”

“Yes, thanks so much for being here, welcome to the team” Steve gives you a little two finger army salute which makes you chuckle.

“Oh, I’m no Avenger, I just take the pictures!” you turn to Bucky, “looking good Old Man, how’s the new arm treating you?’

He smiles, slightly stiffly, still uncomfortable in “enemy” territory. “It’s great, Shuri sure knows her stuff, I don’t think there’s anything she couldn’t make,” he pauses, slightly tilting his head. “Or fix,” he says, tapping the side of his head.

Steve joins in, “yeah, she’ll be giving Tony a run for his money now that Wakanda is on the map as a tech power.”

Speaking of Tony, he re-enters the room with Steve’s shield. “I know you’ve got new ones but Pepper insists I give this back to you,” he says, holding it out.

Steve takes it from him like it is fragile. He runs one hand over the surface, the gouges made by T’challa’s claws still there. There is a light in his eyes as he looks back to Tony.

“Thanks, man,” he says as he stands, setting the shield gingerly on the sofa. He puts one hand on Tony’s shoulder for a moment before pulling him into a bear hug. 

Tony stands awkwardly for a beat and then melts into it, clapping Steve on the back. “Welcome back, Cap.”

You are packing up your gear when Pepper invites everyone, including you, to stay for dinner. You do the polite thing and try to decline but she insists. Inside you are ecstatic, who in their right mind would turn down dinner with Tony and Pepper, not to mention the hottest (AND sweetest) guys on the planet? 

You excuse yourself for a moment to cancel the tentative plans you had with some girlfriends, texting furiously. They are all so jealous that you get to spend time with “STEVE FUCKING ROGERS” as one of them put it. You smile and turn to go back to the room and run smack into Bucky, dropping your phone.

He picks it up and as he hands it to you, notices the photo on the lock screen:

 

“Is that me?” he says with a hint of teasing in his voice.

“It’s a great shot, gorgeous colors, makes a good background.” you say, blushing and shoving the phone in your back pocket. “You doing Ok here Bucky?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit awkward but we gotta get through this, move forward.”

You nod, putting a hand on his shoulder, god he smells good. “Well, at least I will be here so you won’t be the odd man out.”

“Any chance you can do that nervous babble thing you like so much?” he laughs, teasing you.

You pretend to be offended but laugh too, “oh, I am sure that’s gonna happen at some point!”

Suddenly, the room is filled with a lilting woman’s voice, “dinner is ready if you would please proceed to the dining area.” You and Bucky look at each other, eyebrows raised and dissolve into a fit of laughter. 

As you head into the dining room, still laughing with one another, you notice Steve looking at you with a strange look on his face but it almost immediately disappears, replaced by a warm smile.

Dinner is exceptional, and the stories you hear are AMAZING! From Steve and Bucky about when they were kids in Brooklyn–the trouble steve would always get them into, Avengers stories from Tony–especially ones where Steve does something reckless, which always gets a rise out of Bucky.

The endless ribbing on Steve is capped by the story of him scolding the team for their language and Bucky nearly falling out of his chair with laughter, “you have GOT to be kidding me! This guy?!” he pounds Steve on the shoulder, “he had the worst mouth in the Howling Commandos.”

Steve just laughs and shakes his head, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “I’m pretty sure Frenchie  would have given me a run for the money if he swore in English.” They look at each other and simultaneously say something in French and bust up again. As their laughter dies down, you glance at your watch.

“Shit!–Oh, sorry Steve!” you add with a wink, which sends Bucky off again, “it’s late! I have an early shoot tomorrow, I am so sorry to cut this short but I have to go.” You thank Tony and Pepper for the dinner and you head towards the elevator. 

When you stop to grab your bag, it’s already been scooped up by Bucky. “Can I walk you home? City’s not safe at night.”

“Oh, sure, thanks.” He offers you his elbow and you take it, reveling in his old-timey manners. You have a great conversation and he drops you at the door of your building.

You give him a kiss on the cheek, taking your bag back from him. “We should get coffee sometime, the three of us, i’d love to hear more stories of the ‘olden days’”.

He laughs, rolling his eyes, “look, I know I am technically 101 years old but cut me some slack!”

“Sure thing, Old Man,” you retort with a wave, as the door closes behind you.

 

You, Bucky, and Steve don’t get coffee. For over 3 months, your schedules just don’t line up and the one time they do, the Avengers get called away on an emergency mission. 

You and Bucky text almost every day but you miss seeing that pretty face of his. It is amazing to you when you think on the fact that you really have only spent a few hours with him but consider him one of your best friends. 

You are sulking over this fact while you drink your morning coffee, flipping channels, when you see the familiar red, white, and blue flash of Captain America’s suit. You frantically flip back, and coverage of the previous day’s melee is on CNN. 

Your jaw drops as you pick up your phone, frantically texting Bucky:

You scroll back up and re-open the video:

You watch it on repeat for about a minute, smiling at what a beautiful dork he is.

You meet them in Brooklyn so they can show you around the old neighborhood. You hope Bucky won’t be too disappointed at how much things have changed. Gentrification can be a real bitch sometimes. 

You are waiting for them at the top of the subway steps, strangely excited to see them, and they do not disappoint. Steve scoops you into a big hug and Bucky gives you his thousand watt smile. His smile fades though, as he looks around. He hasn’t been back to Brooklyn since the ‘80s when he was on a mission here and slipped his handlers–ending up at his old place, scaring the daylights out of a young mother.

“The Grand theater is a McDonald’s now?” he says with obvious bafflement.

You will not let the mood be dampened however and grab their arms, practically dragging them to the older parts of the neighborhood, untouched by modernization. 

Here they shine. You just let them walk together, talking about things that have changed. You get so many great shots, you don’t know how you will ever pare them down.

You take them to Cozy Coffee (Bucky has decided he hates Starbucks–Steve told you not to ask so you let it slide). They love it, “a real slice” Bucky calls it. You grab 3 stools along the front window and set in to people watch. The light coming in the window is so gorgeous you can’t help but start shooting them again.

Their comfortable rapport is like a balm, find yourself just staring, watching them. You study the planes of Bucky’s face, he really is a beautiful sight to behold, all angular lines and perfect symmetry. After a moment they both fall silent. Steve is staring at you with an amused look but Bucky is just gazing back at you and you feel like you will drown in his ocean blue eyes.

Steve tries to move away, as slowly as possible but the spell is broken and you blink your eyes rapidly, shaking your head. “Sorry, guys! I zoned out for a minute there,” you say as you raise a shaky hand to your throat.

Steve looks crestfallen but quickly recovers, “it’s fine, I should get going anyway, Sharon’s in town and I have a date!” the last part he says with such pride that you can’t help but smile.

“Have fun, Steve!” you say as he pulls you into a one armed hug.

You both smile after him for a few moments before shifting the focus back to each other. “I should probably go too,” you say with a heavy sigh, “I probably took a thousand shots today, you two are so photogenic!” You squeeze his cheek as he blushes. “I had such a great time today, we should definitely do this again.”

“Definitely,” he says, offering you his right arm. You take it, noticing that he almost hides the left one.

“Do you not like the new arm?” you ask, cautiously.

“I’m just not used to being in the spotlight, everyone else can take their suit off, leave it behind, but if I take off what is noticeable about me, I am down an entire limb. Plus, Tony wants to put a repulsor in it.” he rolls his eyes. “Like I am not already lethal enough without attaching a blaster to my actual body? No thanks.”

You give his arm a squeeze, making a mental note to call Steve about getting Tony to back off–or at least shift his direction to something Bucky actually needs, like a day-to-day arm. YES! Maybe coated in that silicone they make them real looking sex dolls out of. You decide finally, that you will get Steve to make him do it, and if he won’t do it for Steve, you’ll sick Pepper on him!

Bucky is watching you, sidelong, and chuckles as your face moves from a sad scowl to delighted to determined. He doesn’t know what you are thinking but he hopes whoever it involves just does what you ask because you never back down. “You’re kinda terrifying when you put your mind to something, you know that, doncha, Dollface?”

“Believe it or not, I have been told that before.” You enter the subway and ride in companionable silence. 

He gives your arm a squeeze as the car pulls to a stop at Grand Central Station. “You OK the rest of the way home?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, only 2 stops. Thanks, Old Man.” you both chuckle as he leaves the train, turning and waving to you at the doors close.

 

Two days later he texts you:

 

 

You laugh, opening the video. The site that hits you makes you nearly drop your phone:

 

WHAT IS HE DOING TO YOU. You watch it over and over for several long minutes, mesmerized. How can he do that? Be so sexy and such a goof in a matter of MILLISECONDS?! It’s not even the tongue that does it, it’s the eyes as he turns to look at the camera. Then finally, he texts you again. Shaking your head to clear it, you click over to messages:

 

 

You go back to watching the video. How is this dude single? You frown, thinking that maybe he’s NOT. The thought almost breaks your heart. WTF? Bucky is your FRIEND, you should want him to be happy and in a relationship with someone who loves him. You almost want to cry at the thought and slump down next to your bed. 

You have to get it together. Your afternoon is blessedly free so yo spend about half of it going through your closet, HATING everything you own. Since you don’t even know what TYPE of club Sam has picked, you decide to play it safe with a low-cut black tank, skinny jeans that are practically painted on, and black combat boots--if you’re going to be dancing, your feet have GOT to be comfortable. At 8:45 you give yourself a final spin in the mirror, making sure you look good. You are surprisingly nervous--stomach full of butterflies and sweaty palms. What is the deal with you today? You start pacing your apartment, not wanting to be waiting down on the curb but ready to leap out the door the second they arrive.

At 8:58, Bucky texts that they are downstairs and you grab your jacket and hit the stairs. It is a 5th floor walk-up but you make it to the front door in record time. Bucky is waiting by the car, and DAMN, your heart flutters as you spot him. He’s just wearing a tight plain black tee, dark wash jeans, and the leather jacket he had on earlier in the video but, boy, does he ever make them look good. 

“Dollface!” he calls to you, as you come out of the building, taking your hand and spinning you.

“Lookin’ good, Old Man!” you say, nodding at him with an eyebrow cocked.

He reaches over to open the front passenger side door for you and you pop your head in, “and this must be Sam!” you say holding out your hand.

He takes it, shaking it gregariously as you slide in beside him. Bucky closes the door and hops in the back. “I’ve heard a lot about you, the two old coots won’t shut up about how great you are--especially jackass back there,” he points to Bucky with his thumb. “Seriously though, your work is really great.” 

You give him a radiant smile, “thanks, Sam, that’s always really nice to hear.” You run your hands across his dash, not a speck of dust in the whole car, “you have a GREAT car!”

“Thanks, I bought it brand new. Luckily, I have good insurance since some amnesiatic jackass totalled my last one,” he glares at Bucky in the rearview mirror.

You turn in your seat to look at him, sure this is going to be a great story, “what happened?!”

Bucky audibly groans as Sam recounts the ‘incident on the bridge’ as Steve calls it. “...and then this dude jumps on the roof, slams that stupid ass metal arm through the windshield and rips the damned steering wheel right out of the column, chucking it who knows where!” They are both laughing but you let out a little scream, turning to face Bucky.

“Fuck Bucky! did you really do that?!”

“Yeah Dollface, I’m afraid I did” he shrugs, a cocky smile on his face, “I was after Natasha and he and Steve got in the way. His car was a piece of trash anyway,” he says, winking at you and busting out laughing because this sets Sam off.

“Brandy was a great car man, you take that back!” he tries to punch Bucky in the leg but is too slow with his limited mobility while driving. “Oh you’re gonna pay for that when we get there!” You love their camaraderie, like brothers who pretend to hate each other but will throw down if anyone says the same shit they do about the other.

“About that, where ARE we going Sam?”

“Taste”

“No FUCKING way! Will DJ Baby Bok Choy be there?”

“You bet your ass he will!”

You both dissolve into a fit of laughter as Bucky asks, “wait, are those real clubs?”

“Haha just trolling you, man.” Sam says elbowing you in the side, “that’s what he gets for calling Brandy garbage. SHE WAS MY FIRST CAR, MAN!”

“Dude, I said I’m sorry like a thousand times! I’m sorry I killed your BAAABY” he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

Sam slows down and starts looking for a spot, he miraculously finds one only 2 blocks from the club. As you approach, both guys eye the huge line warily. They both obediently go to the back and you roll your eyes at them. 

“What are you doing? Get up here!” they both snap to your side. “Bucky, take off your jacket and fling it over your right shoulder like you don’t care,” you push up the sleeve of his left arm a little more so the gleaming metal shines in the streetlights. “You can put it back on once we are inside if you want but right now the mission is get in there and I’ve got 2 Avengers and a low cut top so it is going to be a resounding success.” You take Bucky’s left arm and gesture for Sam to take your free arm. “Ok, follow my lead, nerds,” you give Sam’s elbow a squeeze and turn to whisper to Bucky, “are you OK with this? You can put the jacket back on and we can wait if you are uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Dollface, really. You’re not scared of me after hearing that car story are you?”

“Of course not, Old Man!” you lay your head on his shoulder a moment, “besides, we both know that wasn’t you, not really.” He nods.

You lead them to the bouncer, the people in line glaring at you agitatedly, “you got room for a couple of VIPs?” you ask him your hand caressing Bucky’s gleaming bicep.

“Get back in the line, lady. You ain’t got no idea how many dumbasses show up trying to say they are an Avenger.”

“Ah, but look at these two, they are the real deal man!” you stroke Bucky’s metal arm. “Besides, look at them phones,” you gesture at the line, almost everyone has noticed Bucky’s and are furiously snapping pics, video, and tweets. “You let us in and you’re gonna have the biggest night of the year. You don’t? Well, let’s just say there are a lotta clubs in the New York.” He glares at you for a beat then reaches down, opening the velvet rope.

“YES! Mission accomplished boys! Lets party!” you make a beeline for the bar, ordering a long island and two Yuenglings for the guys. You tell the bartender to keep a tab open and head back to Sam & Bucky, who have snagged a hi-top table. You take off your jacket, stashing it underneath. Bucky has put his leather coat back on, raising the collar slightly.

The music is bumping, the perfect blend of Trance, Hip Hop, and Pop remixes to keep the crowd happy and on their feet. Sam sees you wiggling your hips to the beat as you sip your drink and offers you his hand. You down the rest in one long pull and take it, noticing he gives Bucky a smug look as you head out to the floor. 

Sam is a great dancer, fun with just the right amount of flirty to make you feel great. After a few songs, a girl catches his eye and you push him over toward her, saying in his ear, “I’m gonna go check on the Old Man.” He nods and gives you a wink and then slaps your ass as you walk away. You turn back, mock scandalized and flip him the bird. 

You pick up another drink at the bar and head back to the table where Bucky is still standing, head bobbing along to the music. “What up, Buck?”

“Remember when I said I had been to a club?” you nod, “I never said I went DANCING in one!” You let out a huge burst of laughter.

“Oh, sorry!” his face looks like a kicked puppy, “Oh! No! No, honey,” you take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “you are a GREAT dancer, you definitely have the moves! Just come out there and follow my lead!” you give his hand a tug and he follows you over near Sam and the new girl. 

It is a real bouncy song and you just pull bucky’s hands into the air and start jumping like a maniac to the beat. He had NOTHING to be worried about--he has a natural grace and rhythm that makes you ache to touch him. 

Woah, you shake your head, nope! Bucky is your friend. You need another drink so you flag down a waitress circling with dollar shots and grab 2 of them, downing them in quick succession. Several songs come and go but all you see is him.

You grab bucky’s hand as a slower hip hop song begins, you place his hands on your hips and yours on his shoulders as you draw circles with your pelvis. He matches your rhythm and it is like you had done this thousands of times, perfectly in sync. At the end of the song you spot the waitress with the shots again and get two more. 

When you turn back to Bucky, you notice he has taken his jacket of and stashed it with yours at the hi-top table--now occupied by new people, who look a little star struck as he walk-jogs back to you. You almost drop the drinks in your hands, the combination of his tight shirt, metal arm, and sweat glistening on his bicep literally takes your breath away. 

“Fuuuuuck,” you whisper to yourself. You swallow thickly and down the 2 drinks. He does this little shimmy and sticks his tongue out again like he did in the video and you feel your knees going weak. He grabs you, his metal arm cradling the small of your back and you practically melt.

“No more alcohol for you, Dollface” he says, mouth pressed up to your ear, as he pulls you close to him and rocks you back and forth to the beat. You can feel his breath on your neck and he smells so good you. You throw an arm around his neck and the other back for balance and you again begin to move your hips against his. 

The song changes to “Guys my age”  and you lean back with a groan, knowing you are in trouble but not caring. This song just does something to your body and with it being HIM you are dancing with, you just can’t help yourself. You begin to writhe languidly. He shifts his grip on your back and runs his left hand down your hip to your ass, pulling you closer. You lift that leg slightly and he hikes it up onto his hip, steadying you with the strength of his metal arm. The chorus comes on you can’t help but stare into his eyes as you sing along, 

“Guys my age don't know how to treat me

Don't know how to treat me, don't know how to treat me

Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good

Guys my age don't know how to keep me

Don't know how to keep me, don't know how to keep me

Guys my age don't know how to touch me

Don't know how to love me good…”

He gazes back at you, his tongue coming out to moisten his lips. He moves his hand higher up your back, pressing your chests together. You throw your head back and grind your pelvis against his hip, exhilarated by the contact. The chorus comes back and you pull your attention back to his face, he is biting his lip and all you want to do is kiss him. You place your hands on either side of his face, rubbing his bottom lip with your thumb. You lick your lips, and move your face closer to his. 

Suddenly the song is over and the beat changes completely--you almost feel like you have been punched in the chest. You are both breathing heavily, almost panting, as Bucky releases your leg and loosens his grip on your back. You step back from him and gesture to the restrooms. He nods and turns, eyeing the crowd for Sam.

You bust into the bathroom like a bat outta hell and grip one of the sinks. WHAT DID YOU ALMOST JUST DO?! You stare in the mirror, silently chastising yourself for getting out of hand like that. You finally splash a little water on your face and head back out. 

Bucky is waiting, holding both jackets. “Sam went to get the car,” he says, helping you into your jacket and slipping into his own. He grabs your hand and leads your to the entrance where Sam is already waiting.

“Sam!!” You say as you hop into the car, “you get that girl’s number, man?”

He holds up his phone, shaking it, “you know I did!”

“Ayyy , that’s my boy!” you say shooting him finger guns. It feels so good to sit down. Maybe it was the right call to leave now, you haven’t drank like that in years. You lay your head back against headrest and close your eyes. 

The next thing you know the sun is blinding you and your head is pounding. You groan, rolling over, vowing to never drink again. You manage to find the cord for the blinds and shut them, giving you only slight relief. You rub your head as you fumble to find your phone to see what time it is. You have about 75 texts but open the one from Bucky first:

 You go turn to the kitchen and spot the bottle of aspirin and huge bottle of water along with a note, “Take it easy, Dollface.” You down 2 aspirin and half the water. Your stomach protests but you know the water will make you feel better faster. 

As you take a second long pull from the bottle, the memories of the night before rush into your head in a jumble. You vaguely remember the car ride and trying to insist that you were fine but Bucky walking you the whole way up to your apartment. At one point he just gave up and threw you over his shoulder, taking the last 2 flights like you weren’t even there. You remember him forcing you to drink 2 large glasses of water and silently bless him, sure that you would feel even worse had he not done that. You remember him taking off your boots, his hand returning to your legs to help you slide off your jeans--you telling him how good he smelled….

Your eyes spring open and you scramble for your phone. Your eyes widen with panic as you read the rest of the text messages. They are from basically everyone you know. Most of them are along the lines of congratulations and encouragement but your college roommate’s is one of concern. You open the link she shared and feel like you want to die. 

On FRONT PAGE of Google reads “Newest avenger, first night on the town with mystery date” with a cell phone video of you and Bucky dancing last night. 

Your hand flies to your mouth as you watch it, horrified. This is all your fault! You outed Bucky to get into the club and now you are FUCKED. He will never forgive you! You throw the phone down on your bed in a rage and pull your hair. Please, dear god, make him not have seen this yet! 

You snatch the phone back and immediately call Steve. VOICEMAIL! WHAT THE FUCK STEVE!? You leave a frantic message for him to call you IMMEDIATELY and pace your apartment, trying to figure out what to do. 

The phone rings and you snatch it up, answering without looking to see who it is. “Oh my god, did he see it yet?”

“Did who see what, Dollface?” 

You squeal throw the phone away from you like it has turned into a rat then dive on the bed, frantically searching for it. Trying to sound casual but almost completely out of breath you bring it back to your ear. “Oh, hey Bucky! Nothing, I was just expecting a call from someone else.”

He can tell there is something wrong, “you OK Dollface? Lord knows I have had my share of hangovers. Who knew you were such a lightweight!”

“Yeah, yeah I am ...ok, I guess, other than feeling like I want to die.” You cradle your head in your free hand and feel like you are about to hurl. “Listen, can--” you swallow thickly, “can you come over?”

“Sure thing Dollface, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Bucky--” you say but your phone beeps, indicating that he had already hung up.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” you cry as you throw yourself on the bed. You want to curl up and cry but there is no time. You look around your mess of an apartment and jump back up, shoving random crap into a large laundry basket and shoving it in your closet. You then head to the bathroom, brushing your teeth. Twice. Your mouth tastes like something died in there. You go to your chest of drawers and pull out an old pair of track pants and an oversized shirt capping it with your favorite old hoodie. 

You pull out your laptop and open the video on YouTube. It already has over 2 million views. Christ, Bucky is never going to forgive you. You close the lid but leave the page up, pre-loaded so you can show him. Best if he hears it from you.

You resume pacing but don't have long to wait before you hear a knock on your door. You open it to see Bucky, radiant grin, two coffees in his metallic left hand. He looks so happy, it breaks your heart and you start to cry. 

“Heeey, Dollface, hey it’s OK. What happened?” He sets the coffees on the stove and leads your to your loveseat. He puts and arm around you and you curl into his embrace, sobbing. He just holds you, rubbing your back. After a few minutes you start to calm down and sit up. “What’s this all about Dollface?”

“Oh, Bucky, please don’t hate me!” you cry, pulling the laptop over and opening the lid. You press play on the video and his eyes widen in surprise and then narrow. After the video ends he doesn't say anything. 

Seconds tick by like hours and you finally have to break the silence, “I'm so sorry! This is all my fault. I should never have dragged you to the front of that line and made a spectacle of your arm and called all that attention to you! You're like my best friend and I acted so inappropriately towards you. Which caused this fiasco to happen! I'm so sorry please please forgive me."

He is silent, and plays the video again. You study his face, trying to gauge what he is thinking. 

He finally speaks, eyes still on the screen. "Well, at least we gave them a good show," he turns to you, closing the lid on the computer and setting it aside. "Listen, Dollface, this isn't all on you. After all, it takes two to tango as they say--though it usually doesn't correlate so well to the situation." He smiles, waggling his eyebrows. You are dumbstruck. He continues, "as far as being inappropriate, hell we're both consenting adults, nobody got hurt and I think we both had a good time, right?"

You finally find your voice, "oh thank god! I thought you would never want to see me again! I got so drunk and practically molested you in public!"

He pulls you into a hug, "other than the embarrassment, do you regret dancing with me like that? You seemed really into it, but if you were too drunk then I should be the one apologizing."

You pull back, "apologizing?! You were a perfect gentleman! Making sure I got home and in bed safe, not trying to put moves on me! You took such good care of me and I repaid you by harassing you.” 

You stand up and pace back and forth in front of the couch, “I mean sure, I could blame the alcohol but I would be lying. Of course I am attracted to you! I mean fuck me, Bucky! Have you looked at yourself?!” You turn and gesture at him, “You are like a fucking Adonis! Those eyes and that smile and lips, your arms and thighs and chest and ass..." you shiver in excitement then shake yourself back to reality. "That doesn't mean I should act on it! I'm not some hormonal teenager who can't control herself. You are my friend, you don't want me pawing at you!"

“Maybe I do.”

You freeze, mid-stride and slowly turn to look at him. His posture is casual but this face is a mask of desire. “W--what?”

“Maybe I do. Want you pawing at me, that is. Maybe I have wanted that since the second I clocked you sneaking around in Wakanda.” 

This is too much for you on top of the hangover and stress and you start to hyperventilate. You feel your knees buckle and hear a ringing in your ears.He is suddenly there, catching you, carrying you back to the couch. He deposits you in his lap, his right arm rubbing your back, left one laid across your knees. “Just breathe, Dollface, that’s right in--slower, yes good---and ooout goood,” he speaks soothingly to you like you are an injured animal. “It’s been a rough couple of hours--iiiiiin--but you’re OK now---and oooout.” He rubs the back of your neck, hitting a pressure point that immediately calms you.

“Thank you,” you feel calmer, more able to think, “where did you learn to do that?”

“Steve,” he says, simply. You shoot him a quizzical look. “Before he was Cap, he had all these health issues. The worst was his asthma. The treatments at that time were hit or miss and his Ma couldn’t always afford them. When you can’t breathe your mind goes into panic mode so I became really good at getting him to calm down long enough for his Ma to get the latest contraption going or, in the darkest times, just brew up some herbs for him to breathe in the steam. There were some long nights.” He smiles at you, “feelin’ better, Dollface? 

You nod, giving him a watery smile “You know how I like your stories.” You take a shuddering breath “B-Bucky?”

“Yeah, Dollface?”

You pick at the plates in his arm, “did you really mean it? Did you mean what you said about...about being attracted to me?” you can’t meet his eyes.

“Of course. I would never lie to you. As a matter of fact, I am more than attracted to you. I am pretty sure I am certifiably nuts about you!” He laughs and then becomes serious--grabbing your chin, turning your face back to his, “look at me.” You raise your eyes and when they connect with his they pin you in place and you fear you will never be able to look away. 

“I love you.”

You just stare at him, eyes shining. A tear escapes and rolls down your cheek. He reaches up with his metal hand and  wipes it away as gently as a whisper. 

“Oh, Bucky. I love you too”  

You nuzzle his hand, kissing the palm--he had never purposely touched you with it before. His eyes become clouded with desire as he licks his lips, biting lower one for a moment. He moves his hand from your cheek to your neck and pulls you to him. 

Your breath hitches in excitement and nervousness for a moment and then he is kissing you--tenderly at first, his lips feather light on yours. You run your hands up and bury them in his hair, pulling him closer to you. He makes a low growling sound and crushes you to him with both arms, kissing you like wildfire. His passion almost scares you but if you had to choose a way to go, being burned to death by the fire of his lips is the one you will choose forevermore. 

You pull apart, breathing ragged. His lips are red and his pupils dilated. How did this beautiful man ever fall for you? You run your thumb over his bottom lip, swollen from the pressure. He crushes him to you again but does not kiss you, just holds you, burying his face in your neck and you never want him to let go. 

You almost have a heart attack when your phone rings. It is Steve, finally calling you back. You almost don’t answer it but Bucky nods his chin at you and points towards the kitchen. He picks you up off his lap, setting you back on the spot he just left as you click the answer button.

“Jesus, Steve you have terrible timing!” you say as the line connects.

“Are you OK? Where is Bucky, I can’t find him anywhere!”

“He’s here.”

“Oh, hell, has he seen it yet?”

“Yes. I showed it to him, figuring it is best if it came from me.”

“How did he take it?”

“Surprisingly well,” you say this with a grin as Bucky launches himself at you from the stove, the now cold coffees from earlier in his hands. He nuzzles your neck as you try to pay attention to your conversation with Steve, “he uhhh…..he only was concerned about me actually. You know how protective he can be.” you push him away, stifling a giggle.

“Are you sure? You sound strange. Let me talk to him.”

You hand Bucky the phone, trading it for one of the coffees.

You watch his face, his beautiful face as you take a pull and almost choke. It is hands down the worst coffee you have ever had. You pull a face and notice that Bucky is grinning at you like a maniac, shaking the other coffee at you. You trade him and tentatively take a sip. This one is much better but still pretty bad, the lukewarm temperature has not done it any favors. Still you choke it down and point to the bathroom, planning on taking a quick shower. 

The steam does wonders for your achy muscles. You notice that your headache is almost completely gone and you actually feel like you could eat some food. You exit the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel. Bucky is on the couch, coffee cup in his metal hand. You pull a face, “what IS that?!” 

He takes a pull from the cup, grimacing, “its Russian--it is basically Turkish coffee but has chicory root in it. Tastes like ass but has a real kick. It’s one of the few things I favor from my says as the Winter Soldier. They would give me this stuff by the bucket after wiping me and giving me orders.”

You pull clean clothes out of your closet, laying them on the bed. You raise your eyebrows at Bucky, who is staring at you lasciviously. “You don’t get to see me naked Old Man--not yet anyways.”

He immediately jumps up and faces the wall and you dress quickly. When you are finished dressing,  you tell him it’s OK to turn around. When he doesn’t, you approach him, putting a hand on his shoulder. His face holds fascination and wonder.

“Is that--is that my scars?” he almost whispers, pointing at the black and white photo above the couch. 

“Oh shit, I forgot about that. Yes. I call it ‘Survive’. It is a testament to you and the amazing way you overcame what they did to you. Isn’t it beautiful, the way the light skims across the peaks and shadows the valleys.” You glance at him, he has a strange look on his face, “Bucky? Are you OK? I’m sorry, is it painful for you to see? I can take it do--”

He is kissing you again. it’s different this time--instead of a wildfire it is a slow burn. He sears your lips with his, and scorches a burning path down your neck. You feel a familiar warmth in your belly and moan softly, beginning to pant. He pulls away from you, gasping like a drowning man. You gaze into each other’s eyes for a few moments and he kisses your again, quickly this time.

“You feeling up to go getting some food, Dollface?”

Your stomach growls at the thought. “When I woke up this morning, the mere thought of food would have made me want to hurl but now I feel almost back to normal!”

“That’s the endorphins talking,” he says with a wink and another quick kiss.

You spend the rest of the day together and it is amazing, the drama of that morning is completely forgotten. You get sandwiches and have a little picnic in central park and spend the afternoon just meandering. It is one of the best days you have had in a long time. As he walks you back home, you already miss him. 

“I have to go out of town on a gig next week,” you say, pouting slightly.

He hugs you to him, “well you better takes some kisses for the road then!” He gives you rapid fire kisses all over your face, you both dissolving into giggles.

“Stay with me, Bucky. Stay the night--nothing sexual, just stay.”

He looks sad, “I can’t Dollface. It’s not safe. I--” he pauses, looking nervous and sighs, “I have nightmares. Sometimes I sleepwalk.” He looks away, shame creasing his features, “it’s different in the tower with Steve and Tony--if anything happens they can...subdue me. I can’t trust myself to not hurt you.”

You pull his face back to yours. “Look at me. Look at me Bucky.” he meets your eyes, and you see fear there and it melts your heart. “I love you, OK. I love you and nothing--you hear me now--nothing about what has happened to you is going to change that. So you can’t stay over here, that’s fine. When I get back, we’ll have a sleepover at your place. If you have an episode, we will deal with it.” You give him a long slow kiss.  

“How did I get so lucky to have you, Dollface?”

You chuckle but then become serious, “you paid dearly for 70 years and came out the other side this wonderful man and you’re asking how YOU got so lucky?!” You press your forehead to his and whisper, “it’s me who is the lucky one.”

He kisses you one last time and you enter your building, practically floating up the 5 flights of stairs to your apartment.

 

Your trip (to is awful--delayed flights, HVAC in your rental car not working, and there's terrible phone signal so you can only talk to anyone on wifi (which is also not particularly good). The gig, at least, is going blessedly smoothly. Three days in, you wake up to a text from Bucky:

You watch the video several times:

“Good on you, Stark!” You say aloud to yourself as you set down the phone to get ready for the day. You get to go home tomorrow and are practically aching for it. 

 

The next morning you wake up to this delightfulness from Bucky

 

Bucky is waiting for you with flowers when you land. You spot him from 50 paces and break into a run, skidding to a halt and dropping your bags as he scoops you into a bear hug, spinning in a circle. He sets you on your feet and dips you back into a long kiss. One of the other passengers jokingly yells “get a room!” and you split apart, laughing, giddy with the excitement of seeing each other. 

Bucky picks up your bags and offers his elbow, leading you to a black car waiting curbside. He opens the rear driver’s side door for you and stashes your bags in the trunk. The car is NICE. You sink comfortably into the buttery soft leather seat.  “Courtesy of Mr. Stark,” the driver says, gesturing at a bottle of champagne in a built in chiller between the front seats. You thank him and apologize for not taking it, worrying that you will fall asleep if you pour alcohol on your exhaustion. Bucky sidles in beside you and you cuddle up to him. 

It feels strange, something is off. It takes you several minutes for your tired mind to realize you are on his left side. You grab his new arm, examining it excitedly. “Jesus, Bucky! It even feels real!” You poke at the nails and squeeze the fingers, “he did an exceptional job! You would never know!”

“It even has feeling, somewhat! Pressure mostly. He used some sort of nanotechnology to get it to send signals to a chip he put on my ulnar nerve in my shoulder.”

Wonder fills your soul, “between him and Shuri the world’s problems don't stand a chance!” You bring his hand to your cheek delighting when he smiles and wiggles his fingers. 

“He said the skeleton and silicone sleeve were the easy part, he just based them off of ‘Terminator’ whatever that is.” 

You let out a bark of laughter, “it's about a robotic assassin sent back in time. The second one is better, the same guy plays the robot but this time he's sent back to protect. So basically your life story, minus the time travel.”

He laughs, “of course he would! Classic Tony!”

The driver pulls up to the front entrance of Stark tower and helps Bucky with your bags. You follow Bucky to his room and marvel silently at how similar to his place in Wakanda it is. Right down to the same hat sitting next to the same handmade bowl, this time filled with plums. 

He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your hair, “I missed you, Dollface.” 

You turn to him, “can you miss me for 10 more minutes? I'd really like to take a shower and wash the plane off of me.”

He fake pouts, “I was afraid that you'd say that,” he gestures to the bathroom, “I already got the shampoo and stuff you like.”

“How did you know what to get?”

“70 years of experience at hunting people, you learn to notice things.” He pats you on the ass as you head to the bathroom, “10 minutes, or I'm coming in there.”

You raise an eyebrow, “I don't know if that's a promise or a threat!” you say as you shut the door. You are in and out in record time--as fun as it would be to shower with him, you know you are too tired for that tonight. 

You come out, wrapped in a towel again. He goes to turn around but freezes when you say, “Wait.” You turn your back to him as you drop the towel, giving him a full view of your backside.

You hear a literal growl escape his throat as you quickly dress in clean panties and a black wife beater. 

When you turn back to him he is gazing at you with his mouth open. You slowly walk over to him and push it closed, giving him a small peck on the cheek before turning and running to the bed, giggling like a lunatic. The tiredness mixed with excitement has made you giddy. 

He growls again and chases you, diving next to you from halfway across the room. He ravishes you with kisses, the searing heat of his desire obvious as he grinds his hips against yours. As he trails kisses down your neck, you let out a moan which turns into a groan of frustration, “Bucky, wait.” He kisses your collarbone and looks up and the site that meets your eyes almost changes your mind--his pupils are dilated, eyes clouded with desire, lips red and engorged, hair tousled from your hands--but you know it is better to wait. “Bucky, I’m so sorry but I can’t do this tonight, I am just too tired. I should have not teased you like that, knowing I wasn’t going to finish what I started.”

“Dollface,” he takes several long slow breaths, composing himself. “It’s OK, I will survive. You are right, the waiting will just make it that much sweeter when the time comes.” He rolls onto his side, hugging you to him and kisses your temple. After a few moments you start to feel really sleepy. As he sees your eyelids start to droop, he kisses you on the forehead and gets up. 

You lay back, arm behind your head and watch him undress down to boxer briefs. You give him a wolf-whistle and he wiggles his ass at you before looking shy. “I’m gonna take the arm off, OK? It’s uncomfortable to sleep in.” you nod and watch in fascination as he peels back the edge of silicone sleeving revealing the metal workings of the shoulder underneath. He presses a series of buttons and his whole shoulder seems to shimmer for a second before the arm comes loose. He sets it gingerly on the chair next to the bed then walks around the room, turning off lights, getting a bottle of water from his mini fridge for you, making sure the door isn’t locked in case he has a nightmare. He slides into bed with you and nervously fiddles with the sheet. “Ok, Dollface this is gonna sound strange. F.R.I.D.A.Y., enact ‘manchurian candidate sleep protocol 2’.”

The AI’s lilting voice confirms his command, “protocol enacted. Pleasant dreams, Sergeant Barnes.”

You blink up at him, “what is that about?” 

“Tony’s AI can monitor my breathing and heart rate to see if I am having a nightmare. If it gets bad or I get up without giving the all clear that I am awake, she will wake Steve up. If he can’t wake me up, she’ll get Tony too. Those are the real bad nights though. Usually after a mission. It really sucks because everyone needs their sleep. Sleep protocol 2 is for nights when I am feeling a little buzzed or agitated before bed--she has different soothing musical cues she plays if it seems to be starting, sometimes it helps--either waking me up or calming the nerves enough to end the dream.”

“Oh Bucky, I'm so sorry that you have to go through this. If I could go back in time and stop them from doing this to you I would. I will take on all of Hydra single-handedly.”

He laughs, “Steve said almost the same thing to me once. I've got no doubt that if the technology ever exists you two would do exactly that!”

You snuggle into the covers, laying your head on his right shoulder, he gives you a squeeze. Tentatively, you gently trace the scars on his left shoulder. He shivers slightly and you pull your hand away, “sorry.”

“No, keep doing that, it feels nice. Nobody ever touches me there--it’s always either covered by an arm or they seem too afraid--even doctors.”

“Does it still hurt at all?”

“Sometimes. Mostly, I get that phantom limb thing where I have an itch that can’t be scratched because the damned arm doesn’t exist but even that is so rare now.”

You smile sadly and kiss him then snuggle back down and fall almost immediately asleep.

 

You wake up in the morning, stretching. Friday automatically opens the shades to 50% opacity, helping you to acclimatize to the morning sun. You think back over the night, If Bucky had any nightmares, you slept right through them. He is already gone but has left you a note:

You throw on a pair of workout pants ahdn head down to grab some coffee. On your way back to Bucky’s room, you cross paths with Natasha. “Ms Romanoff! I have been dying to meet you--Steve has told me so much about you,” you reach your hand out and she takes it, pumping it twice.

“Natasha, please. Bucky won’t shut up about you, ‘Dollface’,” she gives you an inspecting look. “I can see what he sees in you. You’re a lucky girl, that one’s a keeper.”

“Oh, I know that for sure.  He’s a precious cinnamon roll.”

“Too good for this world.”

“Too pure!” you both say at the same time, laughing at the meme.

“But seriously,” you continue, “he is truly amazing. To have gone through what he did and come out the other side with his heart and humor intact? Grit. Like boulder sized grit.”

“Yeah. Well, it was great to meet you.” She gives you a cocky smile, “you hurt that boy and i’ll kill you, if Steve doesn’t first.”

“If  I  don’t first!” you say, laughing, as you continue on your way.

You quickly get dressed and grab your bags, heading for the elevator.  When the doors open, Tony Stark is there.

“Walk of shame?” he says with a wink

“Ain't no shame in my game, Stark!” you say laughing. “I’d stay and wait for Bucky to get back from the gym but I should really get some work done.”

“Well, let me drop you at your place.”

“You don’t have to do that, it’s only a few blocks.”

“It’s my pleasure, right, Happy?” he says as you approach the car, the driver from last night, opening the door for you.

“Absolutely. What am I agreeing to?”

“Dropping off this lovely woman at her apartment.”

“Oh, yeah, whatever you need ma’am.”

“See?” Tony turns back to you, “my pleasure.”

You enter the car, Happy takes your bags and putting them in the trunk. 

“Mr. Stark,” you begin.

“Tony” 

“OK, Tony,  I really can’t thank you enough for what you've done for Bucky--the new arm you made him is AMAZING, he is really so happy with it.”

“Hey, it was a great idea. Plus it has practical uses, if we need him to be incognito, he’s good to go. Natasha is ecstatic to have a fellow spy-type to pal around with.”

The car pulls up to the front of your building, Happy starts to take his seatbelt off. 

“No, Happy, I’ve got it, just pop the trunk. Thanks for the ride!” 

You pop out of the car, a spring in your step.

A couple of hours later your phone buzzes with a text:

You jump up from your desk and run to your closet--you know EXACTLY what you are wearing. A halter dress like the one Marilyn Monroe wore in the “Seven Year Itch” only it’s Cherry bomb red. You pair it with black retro mary jane pumps. You take a shower and set your hair in large curlers to dry while you try to get some work done. It is almost impossible to concentrate through the haze of your excitement but you manage to bang out the photos and a quick write up to your editor before the weekend deadline. 

You slam the lid of your laptop down and sprint to the bathroom to get ready. You are usually very low maintenance but when you put your mind to it you can get dolled up with the best of them. You go with big 40s style waves, matte red lip and a smokey cat eye. You give yourself a spin in the mirror and look fucking amazing. 

You throw a change of clothes into a bag and at 6:45 head down to the lobby, not wanting to try and rush down the stairs in your heels (been there, sprained that). A black town car pulls up to the curb at 7 on the nose and you spring to your feet. When you are halfway through the glass door, Bucky comes around the back of the car you both freeze, eyeing the other. He almost takes your breath away--he is wearing a 3-piece suit, fitted to him like he was born in it. It is a dark steel blue color with just a hint of textured shimmer to the fabric. It makes his eyes shine like sapphires. He gives a low whistle and you give him a little spin.

“You clean up nice, Old Man. REAL nice.” you snap a photo of him with your phone:

 

 

“And YOU! You look like a dream I had once but can’t remember.” you blush at the compliment as he takes your bag in one hand, your hand in the other and leads you to the car. Happy drives you to the West Village and pulls up outside a restaurant called “Volare”. Bucky jogs to open your door, taking your hand and kissing it as he helps you out of the car.

He gives the maitre’d his last name and you are seated at one of the more private booths. Your conversation comes easy. He talks about his first date, whom he brought to this same restaurant in 1940, which did not go well, “she was still hung up on some guy from JERSEY!”

You tell him about your trip the past week (a fluff piece on an olympic hopeful from small town Ohio). “The girl is great, gonna go to the bigtime for sure--the coach is a real piece of work though, former bronze medalist with a mouth like a sailor, she was real famous back in the early 2000s for pulling out a medal on a broken tendon.” 

As you wait for your dessert of a shared tiramisu and coffees to arrive, he takes your hand across the table. “You make me happy, Dollface. Happier than I ever thought I could be again, when I could think on my own at all.”

You gaze into his bottomless ocean blue eyes, wishing you could take the pain of the past away. “I love you so much. You are a delight to me. Your humor and good heart are all I have ever wanted.”

“I love you too,” he says, kissing your hand again as the waiter brings the food.

After dinner, you go to Swing 46. The music is great and Bucky is a real hit with his authentic 1940s moves. It’s so great to see him getting attention for WHO he is rather than WHAT. A slow song comes on and he pulls you close to him and it’s as if the entire world disappears except the both of you. “Dollface, I want to ask you something, no pressure, no strings.”

You raise your eyebrows, “anything you need, Old Man.”

“I know that we spent last night together, and I saw that you brought a bag so I am hoping you will stay with me again tonight,” he smiles as you nod enthusiastically. “I was wondering if you wanted to take things...further.” he licks his lips nervously but it is so sensuous you want to kiss him into oblivion, “I know it’s only been a few days so if that’s too fast, that’s OK.” He bites his bottom lip and it is your undoing, “I want to make love to you tonight.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his last statement, “Yes! Yes. Do you want to leave right now?” 

He just pulls you closer so you can feel his breath on your ear, your neck. “I’ve waited over 70s years for this, a while longer won’t kill me.” He plants a tiny kiss, just below your ear, “I want you so badly”.

You nearly melt from the heat of the fire those words spark in your belly. “Fuck, I’m not sure  I  can wait, especially if you keep talking like that.” 

He just smiles and silently sways with you to the music. You lay your head on his chest and marvel at how you ended up here.

The band’s set is blessedly over after only three more songs and you nod towards the door with a wink. He practically drags you to the car and you wonder in the back of your mind if Happy has just been sitting here all night, poor guy. 

Then Bucky is sliding in beside you and kissing your neck and you can’t think coherent thoughts any more.

When you reach Stark Tower, Bucky leads you not to his room but one on a higher floor. He opens the door and the spectacular view through the floor to ceiling windows is only broken by a thin line of railing for the shallow glass balcony. There are lit white candles and white roses everywhere--not red, but white. 

The bed has been turned down and there is champagne in an ice bucket near the sliding door to the balcony. Bucky pours you a glass and ushers you outside. It is a little chilly so he holds you close. The contact is as intoxicating as the alcohol as you snuggle down into his arms. He finishes his glass and sets it on the railing then runs a finger down the side of your neck, sending chills down to your toes.

The chills turn to fire as he follows the finger with his mouth, kisses as light as butterfly wings. You down your own glass in one last pull, setting it next to his on the railing before you drop it in your excitement, and turn to him taking his mouth onto yours. The thrill of the contact makes you weak in the knees and he is suddenly picking you up, carrying you to the bed. He lays you down gently and stretches out beside you, pulling you to him as he explores your body with his hands. 

He runs his hand down your back, cupping your ass. You begin to involuntarily roll your hips, eliciting a groan from his lips. He streams a line of kisses down your throat, following the neckline of your dress to the valley between your breasts and then back up again. “This dress, Dollface, it puts thoughts in my mind that you can’t imagine.”

“That’s the idea,” you say as you arch your your back, aching for more pressure. He runs one hand down your leg, deftly unbuckling and removing your shoe, tossing it on the floor. He repeats with the other leg but after tossing the shoe runs his hand back up, under the hem of your dress to cup your ass again. You let out a shuddering breath, calling his name like a prayer. 

He moves his hand up to the neck of your dress pulling the tie and then slowly, so slowly you think you might die, pulls the right side of the neck of the dress away, revealing your pert breast. He groans as he kneads it lightly, flicking the nipple into hardness with his thumb. When he takes it into his mouth you feel like you will explode and you lace your fingers in his hair, pinning him to you.

He suddenly pulls away from you, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.

“Wait,” you say, huskily, sitting up, “I want to do that”. You stand in front of him, letting your dress fall to the floor in a pool around your ankles. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, nude save for a pair of black lace panties. 

You grab his tie, slowly pulling it from the knot before tossing it aside. You make quick work of the jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders while kissing him as he slides his hands down your sides to your hips pulling you against him. You can feel his arousal press against your stomach as you unbutton the vest, tossing it with the tie. Your hands move to his belt, deftly working the buckle, then to his pants, following the waistband as they slide down his legs. 

He kicks them off to the side along with his socks as you move to his shirt, unbuttoning it as fast as you can. He gets frustrated with the speed and tears it the rest of the way open, buttons pinging off the windows. 

“Friday!” you call out, as he kisses your neck again,  “play the playlist on my phone called ‘up all night to get Bucky’.” 

The stripped version of “guys my age” starts to play as you run your hands down his chest, around to his back finally grabbing his ass and pulling his hips back to yours. He does the same to you only continuing down your right leg, hitching it up on his hip like he did that night at the club. 

Was that only a week ago? How is that possible? It feels like you and Bucky have always been together, you move so perfectly in sync. 

He moves his mouth to your neck, continuing on to your breasts as he cups and kneads them with his free hand. He gives a light bite to one of your hardened nipples and your hips involuntarily buck against his, eliciting a moan from both of you. He lifts your other leg over his hips, picking you up, and walks you both to the bed, kneeling on it before dipping you back and pulling away. You feel the loss of him like a wound and cry out. “I’m comin’ right back Dollface,” he says with a quiet growl as he makes quick work of his boxer-briefs. 

He comes back to you, trailing a line of kisses down the valley between your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. He pauses at the waistband of your panties and flicks his eyes to yours--pinning you in place with the desire you see there. He doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly, seductively, peels your panties down your body before tossing them with the rest of the discarded clothing. 

His hands and mouth blaze a trail back to your groin--teasing you--kissing your thighs, your hips, your navel until you finally call out, begging him. “Bucky, please,” you pant, “please touch me, I need you, need to feel you”. He runs his thumb over your labia and you stretch your legs apart, as you buck your hips, trying to make those hands touch your inner sex. 

He finally gives the bud of your clitoris the tiniest of flicks before plunging two fingers into your aching vagina. He joins his hand with his mouth, flicking his tongue on your nub, stroking it, sucking it as his fingers find your g-spot and send you to the stars.

You grab his hair, holding his face to your pelvis as you grind yourself against his fingers. You feel the familiar pressure of orgasm start to build in your stomach, your whole body feels like it is on fire with your desire. You arch your back, grabbing the headboard as you climax, a soul-deep cry escaping your throat. 

He slows his ministrations slightly while you catch your breath. And then moves up beside you, keeping his hand moving deftly all the while. You roll onto your side, facing him as you run your hands down his chest to his hips, lightly playing with the cut line of his muscles, following the V of his adonis belt to his engorged penis. 

You swallow thickly, eyes taking in the intimidating size of it, “Jesus, Bucky.” you whisper as you run your fingers slowly up the underside to the tip, which is glistening with spunk. 

He cups your chin, pulling your eyes back to his, “Dollface,” he says with a groan, “we don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready.”

“It’s not that, just---well look at that thing!” you say with a giggle, dizzy at the thought of having him inside of you.

“I promise I’ll take it slow, you can tell me to stop anytime it gets too much for you.” he says, kissing you tenderly. You nod, moving your hand more boldly against him, eliciting a groan. He begins moving his fingers inside you again, rubbing your clit with his thumb as you close your eyes, panting. Your orgasm comes fast and strong and then he is rolling on top of you. 

He moves his fingers out of you, replacing them with the tip of his manhood, pressing against the mouth of your opening. He pauses there for a few moments, rubbing your clit in small slow circles with his fingers, teasing you with his closeness. You try to buck your hips up to him to take him in but he keeps you there with his other hand, giving you another orgasm before slipping into you, so slowly, one exquisite inch at a time. 

The stretch burns so good, feels so full. When he finally has buried the length in you he gorans, “you feel so good, Dollface, like coming home.” He pulls you up to his chest and kisses you before slowly moving his hips in slow circles, driving you mad with the feeling of him.

You lean back against his supporting arm as you undulate against him, his other hand never leaving your clit. You see stars as you come again, falling limply against him. 

He gently lays you back on the bed and kisses you as you regain your senses, you start to move your hips again, reaching down and grabbing his ass, pulling him deeper into you. He needs no encouragement as he begins to thrust, speeding up, each plunge eliciting a high moaning cry from your throat. You feel the pressure build and call out his name, coming again as he groans, with a final thrust, burying himself so deeply in you that you feel like you will never be able to be apart again. 

He falls upon you for a moment before rolling off, the feel of him leaving you is like the loss of a piece of your soul and you cling to him, both of you panting, hair stuck to your foreheads with sweat.

He finally says, “was it worth the wait?”

You laugh softly, “fuck yes.” He kisses you on the temple and hugs you close.

“It was for me too. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, kissing him.

You make love twice more that night, until your legs feel like jelly and you can barely walk to the bathroom. You come out, wearing only an oversized tee-shirt and your panties and bucky slips his boxer-briefs back on. You crawl back into bed together, exhausted but sated. You peel back the silicone of his arm and repeat the movement you saw him do the night before, removing the false left arm and setting it gently on the chair beside the bed. You kiss his scarred shoulder before laying your head on it and falling asleep. 

 

 

You are awoken a few hours later by Bucky whimpering in his sleep and twitching his legs. You realize suddenly that you both forgot to set the sleep protocol, “Bucky, it’s OK, it’s just a nightmare,” you say trying to calm him. His eyes spring open and find yours, there is an animal terror in them that shakes you to your core. 

He jumps out of bed, flinging himself against the windows, his sleepy mind not understanding that it isn’t an escape. “Bucky!” you call to him, hands up in surrender, “it’s OK, love, it’s just me. Nobody’s gonna hurt you baby.” He turns but doesn’t seem to see you as he passes you to get to the chair which he then hurls against the window. The chair shatters and a piece of it bounces off the window, hitting you in the head, dazing you. You fall into a crouch between the bedside stand and the wall, shaking your head to try and clear it, you call out again, “FRIDAY! GET STEVE ROGERS HERE  NOW !” a few seconds later, you hear a boom down the hall and Steve is there in the doorway, shield in hand.

Steve can’t talk him down either and Bucky fights him like a cornered dog, all snarls and cries. You begin to cry at the site of them as Natasha shows up in the doorway, immediately sprinting over to you when she sees you huddled in fear, blood streaming down your face. “Come on, honey, let’s get you outta here.” she practically picks  you up, escorting you to the nearest first aid station. 

You can still hear sounds of fighting but it seems to be getting less intense. She sits you in a chair and cleans the wound on your forehead, “you hurt anywhere else?” you shake your head, and begin to shiver slightly. “You might be going into shock, that’s OK, that’s normal,” she puts a blanket on your shoulders and hands you a glass of ice chips. “Eat some of those while I check for a concussion.” You obediently follow her instructions as she checks your pupils and reflexes. “Ok, you seem OK. What’s 12 times 9? Who is President?”

You glare at her, “math? Really? Its like 4AM! Ugh… fine! Uhh, 108? And Hillary Clinton.” 

She scoffs, “in our dreams, girl. I think you are fine but we’ll have Sam look at you in the morning.” She turns back towards the room, it is almost silent now. “Friday what’s the situation with Bucky and Steve?”

“Captain Rogers has Sergeant Barnes subdued, vital signs have returned to normal.”

You immediately jump up and sprint back to the room, your head pounding from the effort. It is a DISASTER zone. Broken glass from a mirror and the vases, flowers scattered, yours and Bucky’s clothes, and pieces of broken furniture litter the floor. There is a large crack in one of the panes of floor to ceiling glass and you thank your blessings that Bucky didn’t manage to make it out there, it is probably a 40 storey drop, not even an enhanced soldier would survive that. 

You see steve, kneeling next to Bucky--who is curled up in a ball, coated in a sheen of cold sweat. He is whimpering slightly and upon seeing you, blood on your shirt and caked in your hair, he covers his face in shame, growling. “Get her out of here, it’s not safe!” 

“Bucky, no--” you try to argue but Natasha is pulling you away.

“Come on, honey, he’s got his demons to fight. Let Steve handle this tonight.”

She leads you in a daze to bucky’s normal room where you sit down on the bed and cry. The pain of seeing him like that is almost too much for you to bear. 

Natasha rubs your back comfortingly, “this happens about 4 times a week, to varying degrees.”

You look at her, mouth agape, “4 times a week? He never told me it was that bad!”

“They can’t figure out why. Shuri thought she got all that stuff out of his head but I guess now it just takes time to heal.”

She leaves you to your thoughts, and you eventually fall asleep, as the sun rises.

Around noon, you wake to a knock at the door, Sam coming to check on you. You sit up hoisting your legs over the side of the bed. You feel like you have been hit by a freight train. The muscle aches which should be a pleasant reminder of your evening together instead just serve to highlight what a catastrophe it ended up.

“How is Bucky?” you ask while Sam re-checks you for a concussion.

“He’s pretty upset. He didn’t get any more sleep last night and went out for a run at the crack of dawn today. He probably will be out all day. That’s his usual M.O. in these situations.” He notices a bruise on your upper thigh, got anything else like this from the fight?”

You frown at the bruise then blush, “that’s...not from the fight, it’s from….before.”

“Ayyy! That’s my girl!” he says with a playful chuckle.

You laugh but there is very little humor in it, worry clouding your mind, letting little else stay. He gives you the all clear and you take a shower before heading back to the room to get the rest of your things.

It has been cleaned, the bed stripped and re-made, even your clothes have been hung in the closet. You see Bucky’s suit and take it down, hugging it to your chest. It still smells like him. You put it back and take your own dress down, folding it neatly before putting it in your bag. You take out a change of clothes and flip flops, quickly changing. You step out onto the balcony and close the door behind you. You stare down at the city below, wondering where Bucky is. 

You shake yourself out of your reverie, he is fine, this isn’t the first time it’s happened to HIM just to YOU. you decide to head back to your apartment, no sense in hanging around here in a pity party of one.

 

It’s late when he finally texts you:

 

You know before he shows up that this is going to be bad. You feel it, deep in your bones. Your fear is confirmed when you open your door to him and his face is set in a mask of determination. 

You try to hug him but he brushes past you. He just stands there a few moments, staring at the photograph of his shoulder on the wall. You see a moment of pain flick across his face as he begins to speak, “Dollface--”.

You cut him off, “Bucky, NO! Don’t do this.”

“Yes,” he clenches his jaw and continues, “we can’t see each other anymore. Last night was so wonderful, I will take that memory with me to the grave, but then I ruined it and,” his voice breaks as he gestures at you face, a large bruise has formed where the chair hit you, “look at what I did to you.”

“Bucky, it’s fine, it wasn’t you! I know now to just leave you and let Steve handle it! Please, it’s OK.” you try to grab his arm but he pulls away from you. 

Anger bubbles in your stomach, “What about what I want? Don’t try to pull this fucking ‘Twilight’ shit on me. I’m not a teenager. I knew what I was getting myself into!” 

He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you slightly--his eyes steely with pain, fear, and anger. “It’s not SAFE! I’M not safe! Can’t you SEE that?”

“Bucky, please! Please. Don’t do this! We’ll work this out, I’m fine!”

“THIS time! What if Steve isn’t there next time or doesn’t get there fast enough?! I AM A LIVING WEAPON! If I hurt you I would die.”

“You ARE hurting me! Please! You don’t have to do this!”

“Better a broken heart than a broken neck,” He steels his nerve, pushing you away from him and turns, walking out the door. 

You run after him, knowing you will never catch him if he doesn't want you to. “No, Bucky! JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES, YOU COME BACK! BUCKY! PLEASE! BUCKYYYYY” you collapse into a heap of sobs on the landing. You hear the lobby door slam.

 

 

You don’t remember how you got back into your apartment or anything else from the rest of that night. You spend the whole next day wallowing, you allow yourself that. 

Monday dawns, gloomy as you feel, a cold rain falling steadily on the city. You get out of bed, not allowing yourself another minute of self-pity. You take a quick shower and think about how you can fix this. Should you just give it time? Surely there is something that can be done? He can’t live like this, spending over half the week in a literal battle with his mind. 

You decide to do research on it, pulling up journal articles on recovering from PTSD but it doesn’t seem to fit that--not really. He doesn’t have flashbacks when he is awake, mood swings, triggering events, or anything--just the nightmares. 

You look into brainwashing but there is thankfully little research, not good for you but good for the poor souls who have not had it done to them. 

You finally bite the bullet and pull up the Hydra files. Almost all of them have been decrypted by internet sleuths. You find Bucky’s file and read it, your heart in your throat. It is long, and painfully detailed. The things Hydra did to break his mind are too numerable to recount but it took them almost 20 years, on and off of ice, to break him completely to their will. The longer you read, the more amazed you are that he is sane at all, not to mention the sweet, adorable man that he is. 

You read for hours, finally getting to the passage in the 80s about the story he told you where he had escaped in Brooklyn and something catches your eye, “Sputnik protocol?” you had seen that before you do a search and find it scattered throughout. Whenever he slipped out of their control.

You decide you need help on this and decide to contact Shuri, it’s too late now to call so you shoot her an email:

 

 

You hit send and decide to take a walk, your brain exhausted from reading the translated thick technical language all day. 

You wander aimlessly, thinking over the times you have spent with Bucky. From Wakanda to when he left you. All you feel for him is love. You can’t even be mad because he thinks he is not safe and will never be happy with you if he has that in the back of his mind.

You end up in the park, near where you spent your first day together. Your mind flicks through images of your lives together like a slideshow and you come to a decision.

You are going to show the world this wonderful man. You pull out your phone and call an old ex that you are still friendly with who owns a gallery.

“Hey! Long time no speak, how’s it going” you smile at his friendly answer.

“Cooper! I have an idea for a hot show, you got any space coming up?”

“I could work something out what are you thinking?”

You lay it all out for him--all of it, Wakanda, the club, the breakup--after you are done he give a low whistle. 

“You really love this guy, huh?”

“Yeah, Coop, I got it BAD. it’s only been a few months but, fuck, I love him. To the stars and back. I just want the world to see him the way I do.”

He agrees to give you a spot in 2 weeks, “It’ll have to be a short show, I got something else at the beginning of the month, but if it does well, maybe we’ll have you back for an encore after the new year.”

“Fair. Thank you so much, Coop.” You hang up the phone and race back to your apartment. You have never put a show together that fast. Luckily, you already know exactly which pieces you want in there.

The show planning takes up all of your brain space for the next fortnight. 

Even though it is all about Bucky, you don’t even have time to spare to think about how much you miss him.

 You pick up your final prints (you didn’t like the tonal quality of a couple so you had them re-done) the morning of the show and rush the framed pieces to the gallery in SoHo. 

Cooper greets you with his patented charm and holds out his arms for a hug. You acquiesce as you look over his shoulder in wonder, seeing it all together, the beauty that is James Buchanan Barnes. 

You can’t help but text Bucky to tell him about the show:

 

 

The show goes great. Someone on an Avengers fan board picked it up and there are tons of people of all ages. You survey the room from a catwalk, loving the emotions on people's faces as they read Bucky’s history. There are a lot of tears, especially from the older folks who have lost loved ones to wars. 

You know the exact second Steve arrives because of the ripple of excitement that goes through the crowd. He’s all smiles and greetings for a while but then spots you on the catwalk taking the stairs two at a time and pulls you into a comfortable hug. 

He then turns and follows your gaze, scanning the throng. “He’s not coming, is he?” disappointment rings in your voice.

“No, he wasn’t up to dealing with the crowd.”

You nod, giving him a brave smile. “How is he doing?”

Steve shakes his head, “not good. The nights have been bad. Way worse than before. It’s like...like the Winter Soldier is still in there and once Bucky falls asleep he reeks havoc. He’s been forcing himself to sleep in the Hulk’s containment room.”

You close your eyes at the thought of him, caging himself up like an animal. “I have a line on something that might help but I am waiting to hear back from Shuri before bringing it up.”

“Let’s hope it works, whatever it is.” 

You stand on the catwalk and talk for a while longer. As the crowd begins to thin out, Steve heads down to look at the photographs. You watch his face, this man who loves Bucky as much as you do, and see your pain, mirrored there. When the rest of the crew arrive, you head down to greet them. 

Natasha, Tony, and Sam park themselves by the bar while Pepper and Steve walk around together, gesturing animatedly as they talk about the art. Pepper insists on buying one of the Wakandan portraits for the Avengers museum she is trying to put together. Tony tries to argue but she tells him to write the check and shut up. 

Just as Cooper is about to close up for the night, a straggler appears. 

He’s suddenly just there, standing in front of you. You know it’s him before you even look up from rubbing the soreness out of your feet from standing in heels all night. You swallow thickly, nervous to see him again. You finally look up and see his face. He looks pale and so, so tired. You feel your face start to prickle like you are going to cry. You shouldn’t have asked him to come, it’s too soon, too hard.

“Bucky,” you try to sound nonchalant and fail miserably, “I’m so glad you were able to make it, after all.”

“You did this whole show….about me?” He gestures at the gallery, “Dollface….”

“Yes--I want people to know who you are, not as an Avenger or as the Winter Soldier but as you--this wonderful man with a wonderful heart.” a tear sneaks its way down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away. “I...I read your Hydra file,” he sucks in a breath and scowls, “I’m sorry if that hurts you but what’s done is done.” you square your shoulders and look him in the eyes, “One thing that is abundantly clear is that the Winter Soldier was not YOU, James Buchanan Barnes.” you touch his chest then suddenly pull back your hand as if burned, “you fought it every step of the way.”

“You don’t think….less of me after reading it?”

“LESS?! If anything I think more! You are a wonder to me, Bucky!” you sniffle once, tears gone, anger in their place. “For every murder committed by the WInter Soldier, there were 2 victims--the one in front of the gun and the one behind it.” He moves as if to touch you but pulls back. You sigh and almost whisper, “I know that it has gotten worse.”

“Dammit, Steve! I told him not to worry you! I’m dealing with it!”

“What, by caging yourself like a wild animal?!”

“If that’s what it takes! besides it’s better than going back on ice which is what I SHOULD do.”

“No, Bucky, don’t say that. We’ll figure something out!”

“I’m not sure we will.” he scowls as he looks over the gallery, his own face shining back from him from every direction, “I am just so….tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Some people just aren’t meant to have happy endings.”

“Please don’t say that.” you whisper, “Please. Just hold out hope. I will be here for you, as your friend, as ...whatever you need me to be. Please. I am worried about you.” you reach your hand out to him but he turns away, heading for the door. 

He is almost out when he pulls up short, backtracking 3 steps. 

You had found a photo of him & Steve in the 40s, smiling and laughing together and had juxtaposed it with one of the ones you took that day in Brooklyn. The easy smiles are there but there is an ocean of sadness lurking in their blue eyes. It is something most wouldn’t notice but Steve and Bucky both did, responding by freezing and examining the face of their friend in the photo--a moment frozen in time, telling so much more truth than they ever would out loud.

Bucky turns back to you, “I will hold out hope--not for my sake but for his.” You give him a watery smile and nod before he turns again, leaving the gallery. Cooper locks up behind him and comes to you, holding you while you cry.

A few days later, you get a call from a Wakandan phone number, knowing it is Shuri, you excitedly answer, “please tell me you have good news.”

“Yes, I actually do. But first, a question, are you the one he calls ‘Dollface’?”

You can’t help but smile, “yes. At least, I hope I’m the only one.”

“You are. He wouldn’t stop talking about you until right before I got your email. What happened?”

“He had one of his nightmares that ended up with a broken chair leg bouncing off a window and hitting me in the face. In the end, he left me, afraid of hurting me again.” You sigh, suddenly exhausted. “That‘s where I am hoping you can come in. When he has these night terrors, it is like he’s not there. Steve, Captain Rogers, said it’s like the Winter Soldier is in there, waiting for him to let go so he can take over.”

“Very astute, you two. It is not often that I miss something so big. I believe that is exactly what is happening. When they did his programming, he kept fighting it so they almost split his mind in two, suppressing the person of Bucky, but letting the Soldier free. I have run some simulations and I believe the Sputnik Protocol will work.”

“So what IS it? What do we do?”

“You just say the word.”

“What, ‘Sputnik’?”

“Yes. in almost all of my simulations that worked to shut down the Winter Soldier. The problem is that in about half of them it also shut down the rest of the brain.”

“As in…” you don’t even want to say the word, “dead?”

“No! Oh no! I wouldn’t let you try it if it was that! Just unconscious.”

“What about the rest?”

“It makes him go berserk”

“What percent?”

“Less than 5.”

“What does it do to him if it does work?”

“It seems to incapacitate the Soldier until he has been re-activated by the trigger words. And since we have taken the power away from them, it should, in theory anyway, never re-awaken again. The only drawback is that if I am wrong, Bucky will either not wake back up without intervention or be lost again. You should bring him here to test this in a safe clinical environment.”

“Well, I haven’t actually told him about it yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up only to be dashed if it doesn’t work. He’s...he’s in a real hard place right now.”

You can hear her sigh, “I still can’t believe I didn’t catch this, my brother was right I got overconfident.” 

“Oh, no, honey! You did SO MUCH for him! It really is almost a miracle what you did.” you rub your forehead, “I also think that it has been a thing that has developed and worsened over time. I know that in the past two weeks it has happened basically every night. To the point where he is either not sleeping or locking himself up.”

She says something in Wakandan that sounds like a curse word, “he should have told me! I just texted him yesterday.”

“He doesn’t want to worry anyone, says he’s ‘dealing with it’”

“By locking himself up? What is he an actual wolf now?”

“That’s what I said.”

You talk a few more minutes, promising to call her with the results as soon as you can.

“Remember--he has to be in full night terror mode for this to work, fully immersed in the subconscious for the Winter Soldier to come out. You may only get one shot at this, he is a very smart man, he CAN NOT know what you have planned.”

You say your goodbyes and hang up, immediately texting Bucky, luckily his humor is still somewhat intact:

 

When you arrive at Stark Tower, you sit Bucky and Steve down, laying it out. “Ok so there is a thing that might work but Bucky has to be asleep and fully immersed in a nightmare, sleepwalking and everything, first. So what we are going to do is,” you take a deep breath, knowing exactly how he will react, “we go to sleep, the 3 of us, all together in the containment room. When Bucky gets in his...zone, lets call it, I will do the thing that should help fix it.” You leave out the possibility of the berserker Winter Soldier.

Even still, Bucky does not take the plan well. “ABSOLUTELY NOT” Bucky jumps out of his seat, in a rage, rounding on Steve, “how can you even THINK this is a good idea?!”

Steve raises his hands in surrender as you stand up. “It’s not HIS idea, it’s MINE. he’s just here as back-up. If it doesn’t work, I promise I will leave immediately to safety.”

Bucky rounds on you, “do you have a fucking death wish?! Why do you have to be there at all?”

“I don’t HAVE to, I NEED to! I need to see!” you are about to cry, “to see if it doesn’t work....that’s the only way I will ever be able to let you go.”

He takes two steps to you and hugs you to him, “Oh, Dollface, I’m not worth all of this.”

“Yes. You. ARE! James Buchanan Barnes, do you not understand what I meant by ‘I LOVE you’?! That is not a thing that I say lightly to someone. I literally have never said it to anyone other than my parents before.”

He kisses your temple, “If this doesn’t work you leave IMMEDIATELY. Do you hear me?!”

“I promise.”

“No, If it doesn’t work,” he pushes you to arms length, looking into your eyes. There is so much pain and worry there, “you have to leave--not just the room, you have to leave ME. Leave and forget about me, move on with your life, get married, have kids if you want.”

“Bu--”

“NO!” he puts his finger to your lips, cutting off your argument, “That is my condition. This doesn’t work, you leave. I left you once, I’m not strong enough to do it again”.

You set your jaw and square your shoulders, giving him a pert nod, “OK, it doesn't work, I leave. We never see each other again.” This HAS to work.

That night, NONE of you get any sleep. Bucky is so on edge with you there that he jumps at every sound. His tension builds in the room, a cloud settling on all three of you.

When the sun comes up Steve finally calls it a night. “This obviously isn’t happening tonight.”

You sigh, heavily, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “I know, It might take a few nights for him to get tired enough to settle into REM.”

 

The day seems to stretch for EVER. You are so tired. The boys don’t seem to be feeling it as bad as you do, stupid super soldier serum, but even they are dragging by the afternoon. 

Bucky and Steve come back early from their afternoon workout to find you laying on the couch, flipping channels without actually seeing anything. Bucky picks your feet up and slides onto that end of the couch, placing them gently back in his lap while Steve collapses into a chair.  

“Wait, go back!” Steve suddenly calls out, pointing at the TV.

You flip back slowly until he tells you to stop, it is a trailer for the next movie coming on TCM. “‘The Sound of Music’?  Steve, is that a good idea?” you glance at Bucky. 

“YES! He’ll dig it!”

“Ok, if you’re sure. Let me hit the head and get a snack before it starts.” you drag your sorry ass to the bathroom and then to the kitchen where Steve is making popcorn.

“You sure about this? I mean Nazi’s? You aren’t worried it will be too hard on him?”

“Nah, Nat made us watch ‘Inglourious Basterds’ about a month ago, he LOVED it. Anyone fighting AGAINST Nazis or Soviets, he’s all about it.”

You shrug as you grab a jar of peanut butter and toss it to Bucky, he catches it with his left arm without even looking. “Thanks. Dollface.”

“His favorite,” Steve smiles at you as you pull a bag of jelly beans out of a drawer and hand them to him.

“And yours,” you say as he gives you a side hug.

“This thing tonight better work, Bucky, because this here is the perfect woman.”

“Hands off my girl, Rogers. You are too much of a fuckin’ dreamboat.”

“I only have eyes for you, Old Man,” you say as you plop down next to him on the couch.

The movie starts and he DOES love it, you only make it to about the wedding scene before falling asleep against his arm. He shifts you so that you are laying down, head on his thigh, and covers you with the throw blanket, turning down the TV.

 

When you wake up, the sun is just about to set, you can see the colors reflected in the top of the Chrysler Building. Bucky and Steve are talking in low, murmuring voices. Bucky’s left hand is draped over your hip and his right is absentmindedly playing with a lock of your hair. You hear him laugh softly and you wish this moment could last forever. You close your eyes and snuggle back down into the blanket, breathing in Bucky’s scent. 

“You tried to get Hedwig to go dancing with you!” Steve says, laughing louder.

“She was cute!” Bucky says, defensively.

You open one eye and turn to look at him, “who’s Hedwig?”

“Hedwig VonTrapp--we saw them perform in 1941.”

“WHAT?!” you sit up excitedly, wide awake.

“Yeah, and Bucky hit on Hedwig.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!”

“Sorry, Dollface. To be fair your parents probably weren’t even born yet.”

“Fair enough.” They spend the next few hours regaling you with old stories, mostly getting Bucky into trouble this time. 

 

Finally, you face the inevitable, “we should try to get some sleep.” Bucky immediately tenses. “It’s gonna be fine, Bucky. And listen, we are NOT camping out in that containment room. It is AWFUL. I got Tony to give us a clean room, only 2 beds, nothing else to throw or break, and Friday is gonna monitor your vitals and wake me up with this watch,” you show him your wrist, “so I can be ready if and when your nightmare begins.”

You lead them to the room, it is a bit sad, two mattresses on the floor in opposite corners made up as beds, no lamps, no chairs or tables, no windows. “There is a bathroom down the hall, there. Now let’s get ready and meet back here in 10.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve says with no irony.

“Bucky….” He is standing in the doorway, eyeing the beds warily.

“Dollface, please don’t make me do this.”

“It’s going to work, it HAS to.”

“If I hurt you…”

“You WON’T!” you point at the 2nd mattress, “Steve will be RIGHT THERE, he’s not gonna let you hurt me! I PROMISE.” you lead him back to his old room and throw a pair of shorts and tee at him. “Get dressed. Now.” You quickly slip into a pair of sweatpants and tank top. He comes out of the bathroom, tossing his left arm on the bed and reluctantly follows you back to the makeshift bedroom. You leave your shoes and phones in the hallway, closing the door. “Friday, enact Manchurian Candidate sleep protocall 4, link vital alerts to my watch.”

“Enacted.”

The 3 of you lay in the quiet dark for a long time before you get restless. You roll over to face Bucky, “I assume you are still awake?” you whisper mouth right at his ear. He gives your hand a squeeze in response. “Can we have a kiss for luck?” you feel his pulse quicken in his neck.

He rolls to face you, running his hand up your back to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck. There is a long pause, you both are scared to take the leap. 

Finally you close the distance, kissing him and it is like going home again. You never want this to end. How will you ever leave if this doesn’t work? This could be the last time you see Bucky. 

Suddenly--you wish Steve wasn’t there, that you could make this night the best one, if it is to be the last. You kiss him like you have been drowning and he is the air, long for him like a winter flower longs for the sun.

Steve shifts in his bed and you both freeze like teenagers caught by their parents. You pull back with a giggle, “sorry, Steve.”

“’s alright, just didn’t want you to do something you might be embarrassed about by light of day.”

You shift around and hug Bucky to your chest, humming “Edelweiss” quietly, running your fingers through his hair. After a long while his breathing becomes regular and calm and you both doze off.

 

The watch vibrations wake you up out of a dead sleep. You open your eyes, careful to not to wake him, bringing the watch to your face, 4:35 AM. Bucky begins mumbling in his sleep. You very carefully extract yourself from his embrace and get up,  “Friday,” you whisper, “lights to 5%”. The lights come on just enough to see in the dark and you slide down the opposite wall, waiting to see if the Winter Soldier is going to come out to play.

It doesn’t take long. He becomes more and more agitated in his sleep, tossing and thrashing. He begins talking, presumably in Russian, and you know that it is time. You glance over at Steve who has moved to a crouch and hold up a hand for him to stop. Bucky sits bolt upright in bed and you jump to your feet. His eyes immediately find you and he growls. “YOU! Little kukla dlya litsa,” he jumps up from the bed as Steve springs in front of you.

“Steve, no, wait, let him come.” you push him lightly and he moves as Bucky takes another step closer.

“He fights for you, suka, but I am stronger” he lunges at you and you dive out of the way, coming up just to his left. He grabs for you and overbalances, stumbling, not used to not having an arm there.

“Yeah, well guess what, Motherfucker” you say as he recovers. He turns and grabs you by the throat, picking you up off the ground. 

Steve leaps at him, pulling on his fingers as you manage to choke out “Sputnik, you sonofabitch!”

You see a momentary flash of pure rage before his eyes roll back in his head and his grip slackens. Steve catches him and gently lowers him to the floor before turning to you, “Friday lights to 100!” The lights brighten immediately as he examines you. “Are you OK? Do I need to call Sam?”

“I’m fine, it’s fine! Check on Bucky!” you cough and rub your throat, hoping there won't be any bruising but thinking it will be OK.

Steve crouches down and shakes Bucky’s shoulder, “Buck, you with us?” Bucky opens his eyes, squinting against the bright lights, and you let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Did it work?” Bucky says, sitting up. You fall to your knees next to him. “Dollface, you OK?”

“I’m fine, Old Man, just fine,” you cradle his face in your hands, examining his eyes. You see only the old him there, no signs of the murderous gaze of the Soldier. You kiss him long and hard. You hug him to you, “It worked. Oh it worked perfectly!” You plant kisses all over his face as he laughs.

You and Bucky make love again that afternoon. It is a slow, carefree affair. You spend time exploring each others’ bodies; there is laughter and cuddling, talk of the future--your dreams and aspirations, his desire to just have a normal life.

Bucky never put his left arm back on and you pay special attention to his shoulder, tracing his scars with your fingers and kisses. At first he is shy of it but you pull his face to look at you, “I wish I could kiss away the past that caused these scars, but instead i will just have to teach you to love them as much as I do. You never have to wear the arm around me if you don’t want to.”

He pulls you to him, love shining in his eyes, and kisses you. You feel desire course through your veins yet again and hope that thrill never goes away. You trail kisses down his neck, his shoulder, his stomach--the hard muscles there quivering as his breathing increases.

You take his erection in hand and bring your mouth down, rolling your tongue around the tip as you rub tantalizingly slowly up and down the shaft with your fingers. The sound he makes sends a lightning bolt of need through your body. He takes a fist of your hair and gently keeps you in place. You keep your attention on him for a few more  moments before you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a gasp. You give the tip one last light kiss before crawling back up to kiss him as you straddle his legs.

He guides himself into you and the sensation makes your toes curl in delight. You sit up and begin to roll your hips as you ride up and down on him. He kneads your breast with his hand, flicking the nipple with his thumb. He then traces a path down to where you are joined and begins folding your clit. You arch your back and move faster as the waves of pleasure wash over you. As you climax you almost fall backwards but he grabs your hand, sitting up. He pulls you to him, chest to chest and kisses you then picks you up momentarily, so you can move your legs to wrap around his torso. He crosses his legs under you and begins to move his hips.

You wrap your arms around his neck and counter his rhythm with a circular motion, the sensation of his hard chest against your sensitive nipples is one you never want to stop. You feel the orgasm building and move faster, grinding down on him and panting like you are suffocating. You hear a low growl begin in his throat and it pushes you over the edge, as his growl intensifies before ending in a groan of satisfaction.

You cling to each other, all tangled limbs and sweat, while catching your breath. Suddenly your stomach growls. You groan in frustration as Bucky pulls away. “Come on, let’s go get you something to eat.” You grab at his delicious rear end as he gets up from the bed but he is too fast for you. After a long shower--you both get a bit distracted seeing the other rubbing soap on their body, you finally get dressed and head to the kitchen. 

Tony is waiting there. VERY impatiently.  “Shuri has been chewing my ear off half the day about getting her new scans.” He gestures at Bucky’s head, “wants to make sure it’s all out for real this time.”

Bucky wolfs down a bagel and two plums and turns to follow Tony to the lab. He reaches the elevator before skidding to a halt and running back to give you a kiss on the head.

You smack his ass and continue eating your bowl of fruity pebbles. 

He is gone several hours, you finally ask friday how to get to the lab.

Tony and Shuri are video conferencing while Bucky sits in a chair, his head in some sort of glowing helmet with hundreds of fiber optic cables coming out of it. Shuri spots you coming in through the door, “Dollface! I DO remember you! Always trying to find the scoop!”

You give her a wave, “well, i wasn’t wrong! Scoop of a lifetime, or maybe catch would be a better word!” you giggle as Bucky rolls his eyes. “How much longer do you think you will be?”

“Not much. You can have him back in….12 minutes? Give or take,” Tony gestures at the computer screen. 

You follow his gaze and look at the scans, trying to make some sort of sense as to what they mean. “Do, this is what your brain looks like Old Man.” 

“Yeah, and that’s” Shuri scrolls to a section of the scan, “when you came in the room.” The scan goes from some activity to a LOT of activity, as well as the correlating vitals.

Fear floods your system “What does that mean? Is it bad? The Soldier seemed to want to target me, specifically, last night--completely ignored Steve. He’s not coming back is he?” 

Shuri laughs, “no, that’s LOVE, GIRL!”

You blush, “shit, let’s hope you never have me in that thing when HE walks in! I don’t think there’s enough data in the world to contain my feelings!”

Tony rolls his eyes but smiles as he begins disconnecting wires from Bucky. The second he is clear he runs to you, scooping you up and tossing you over his shoulder. 

You let out a surprised shriek and a giggle before waving at the screen Shuri is on, “bye! Nice talking to you again!” 

 

You spend the rest of the day in bed before finally falling asleep together, exhausted and sore but sated. You set the sleep protocol, just in case but he makes it through the night without incident.

 

The next morning, you are awoken to a klaxon. Bucky is already out of bed and half dressed before you even know what is going on. “Bucky?”

“Sorry, dollface, duty calls,” he says, giving you a quick kiss as he straps on his metal arm and heading out in a full sprint.

You groggily get up and throw on a robe then head to the common floor. Pepper is there, pacing worriedly. 

“What’s going on?” you ask, rubbing your eyes.

“Emergency in Scandinavia, I don’t know the details.”

You frown, worriedly, “any idea how long they will be gone? What’s the protocol for this?” You feel a little sick to your stomach at the thought of Bucky out there.

“We wait. We go on with our lives. Unfortunately, it can take hours or it can take weeks. I will keep you apprised with any updates.” Pepper turned from you to take a phone call, “no, i said to move it back! Ok, ok! i will be there in 30 minutes.” She turns back to you, “so sorry, i have to go, I had a meeting today that i tried to postpone but no dice.” She gives you a quick hug, “you gonna be ok? I know this is stressful. If you want, i can send you to Clint & Laura’s at least the kids will be a distraction.”

“No. no, it’s ok. I will go back to my place and try to get some work done.

 

 A week passes and there is nothing about...whatever is going on on the news, internet, nothing. It is incredibly frustrating but Pepper knows they are all alive at least from Friday’s vitals readouts she checks constantly.

On the ninth day, you finally get a text from Bucky: 

The video is so fucking hot how can just looking at his hands make you feel this way?

 

29 hours after Bucky sent the video, there is a pounding at your door. You rush over to it, checking the peephole before flinging the door open and leaping into his arms. Your lips find his as he crushes you to him and you wrap your legs around his hips. He steps through the door, roughly kicking it closed and dropping his bag. You pull your shirt off over your head and toss it to the side, the rough material of his tactical vest against your chest making your nipples hard and sensitive. He walks over to the bed and drops you on it with a growl. You pull at his belt, undoing his pants as he literally tears your shorts and panties off with his metal arm. He sinks into you so suddenly that you gasp.

He pauses, “you with me Dollface?”

“Yes i just,” you groan as you shift your hips, taking more of him in, “i missed the feel of you.”

That elicits another growl from him as he begins to pound against you, the need for you and stress of his mission has made him frenzied. You match his movements and reach your hand down to rub yourself. He growls again at the site and bites your neck, you will definitely have a mark there. You feel the climax building and crest as he grunts his own fulfillment, falling on your chest breathlessly. 

You hold him there for several long minutes, hugging his head to your bust, petting his hair. “It’s ok, you’re home now,” you coo over and over like a mantra, not sure if it is for his benefit or yours.

He finally shutters, coming back to his senses before looking up at you, “Dollface, I’m sorry, are you ok? I shouldn’t ha--”

You cut him off with a laugh, “Christ Bucky, i was ready to go the second you sent that video! I’ve had a full blown lady boner for over 24 hours! If you hadn’t taken me immediately, I would have taken you.” You put your hand on either side of his face and say with sincerity, “it doesn’t always have to be candles and flowers, I’m not made of glass. I can take a bit of roughness once in a while.” You can feel his penis twitch inside you at the thought and your eyelids flutter at the sensation, you are ready to go again and shift your hips encouragingly.

He pulls away from you though and begins to undress. Quickly unlacing his boots, kicking them off as he works the straps of his leather tactical vest. You watch him and slowly stroke yourself, his natural grace making his movements almost like a dance. He watches you and groans in frustration at his many layers. When he gets to the combat harness giving extra support to his metal arm you bellow, “WAIT!” He freezes immediately, “leave it on, please?”

“Dollface?”

“It’s fucking hot as hell, Old Man!”

He lets out a moan and crawls up the bed toward you like a tiger on the prowl, “you like this thing, huh?” he holds it up and flexes it, the metal plates shifting in response, a shiver of desire flows through you and you reach out to him. “Don’t stop rubbing yourself, Dollface, look at me,” he pushes your hand back to yourself as his eyes bore into your soul. He flexes his arm again, this time with a thoughtful look. He twists his wrist several times and suddenly there is a light grinding sound and then a gentle hum from the arm.

He raises one eyebrow and slowly lowers his metal hand to you, running it lightly down your stomach. It is cool but not cold and is vibrating slightly, “Bucky, wha--” your words fail as he teaches your vagina, teasing the opening lightly. It is like lighting, your entire body feels electrified by the touch. You try to grind against it but he keeps it barely touching you, teasing you. “Fuck! HARDER BUCKY!”

He licks his lips, biting the bottom one as inserts two of the fingers into you and rubs your clit with his thumb, shifting his body up to claim your mouth with his. When you come seconds later, you see literal stars in your vision and feel light headed. He takes his hand away and you hear the humming stop. He returns it to your stomach, as he lays beside you, rubbing your side lightly. “You OK?”

“I think that’s the hardest i have ever--what WAS that?!”

“One of the servo motors got damaged in the fight, if i move my wrist just right it pops out of place and just spins, you like it?”

“We gotta get Tony to add that feature to the other arm too!”

He laughs, “ I ’ll have to put in the request when I give him this one to fix.”

You groan, “oh, LORD I will never hear the end of THAT! Totally worth it though.” You pull him to you, kissing him.

He runs his metal hand up your torso pausing at your breast to lightly flick your nipple and pinch it to hardness then continuing to grab a fistfull of your hair. “Not made of glass, you say?” he growls as he pulls it slightly.

You arch your back and suck in a breath. The pain isn’t much, just enough to set your senses on fire again. “I want you to ravage me, make me feel it for days.”

He bites his lip and raises a questioning eyebrow, “if you’re sure Dollface,”

You nod, “I promise, if it is too much or it hurts I will tell you. I trust you.”

With that he roughly pulls you to him, punishing your mouth with his, releasing your hair to grab your wrists with his metal hand and pulling them over your head. You test his grip and hear the broken servo pop out of alignment again. 

He pulls you up and flips you around settling you on your knees. He gives you a few swift slaps on your ass before plunging into you, reaching around between your legs with his vibrating metal hand. He grabs your hair into his other hand, pulling your head roughly back so he can kiss and bite your neck and shoulder. He begins to pound into you, slowly at first, pulling out almost completely then slamming back into you, burying himself completely. He does this for a while, teasing you with his slow strokes. 

“Fucky Bucky, DO IT!” you finally cry and with a guttural growl he picks up the pace, sending you over the edge almost immediately. You  almost go limp in his arms as he continues to fuck into you, your eyes roll back with the pleasure. It seems like he does it for hours, you lose count of how many times you orgasm. 

When he finally lets you go, you sink into the mattress like you have no bones. You are completely spent. He spends several minutes petting your hair and rubbing your sore thigh and shoulder muscles. You finally roll onto your side and he cuddles up behind you, at some point he has taken the arm off and tossed it over near his bag by the door. He continues to gently run his right hand up and down your side until you drift off. 

Exhaustion causes you to sleep like the dead. When the morning dawns you are sore all over and you turn to Bucky, kissing him awake. 

You finally look at him, really look at him, and he is a MESS. He has cuts all over, bruises, and especially  where the extra support straps for his arm slip around his torso, there are long bruises. “Jesus Bucky, are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “had to catch myself in a free fall, took the brunt of it with the metal arm. I fell 5 stories but it coulda been worse, the fall was 32 stories.

“What.” 

“Dollface, it’s fine! Sam would have caught me if i Hadn’t. I jumped down 8 stories in Bucharest, trying to escape after Vienna. That was my old arm though, it was more...integrated.”

“Bucky.”

“I’m fine! The bruising will probably be mostly gone by tomorrow! I didn’t even break a rib.”

You frown but he kisses you until you smile again.


End file.
